


Yuri Plisetsky + The Grand Prix Final Banquet = Revenge Instagram Posts

by surrealmeme



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drinking, Grand Prix Final, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Instagram, M/M, Post-Grand Prix Final, YURIO IS AN ANGRY TEEN, Yoi - Freeform, episode ten references, revenge posts, yurio is nice to otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrealmeme/pseuds/surrealmeme
Summary: The next morning, Yuri Plisetsky would watch the world burn, while enjoying his cold revenge with a cup of sickeningly sweet hot chocolate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda sorta related to "Phichit Chulanont + Tumblr = Viktuuri," because of the titling and they're on the same timeline.

            “Only one glass of wine. That’s it,” Yakov decreed, much to 15 year old Yuri Plisetsky’s chagrin.

            _“What?!_ But –”

            “No.”

            Grumbling and huffing, Yuri stalked across the banquet’s venue to where Otabek Altin stood.

            “You’re under your country’s drinking age as well!” Yuri exclaimed after hearing that Otabek’s coach had allowed him to drink as much as he pleased.

            “Besides, we’re in Barcelona,” Otabek said, “and Spain’s drinking age is 16, which I’m over and you’re under, Yuri.”

            Yuri _hmph_ -ed again, but couldn’t bring himself to yell at and berate Otabek as he would to anyone else. Soon, someone brought out liquor and shot glasses, announcing a round of drinking. _It’s probably that bastard Nikiforov, so that he can get the katsudon drunk off his ass again,_ Yuri grumbled.

            All six – nope, five; sorry, Yuri – skaters gathered around a round table, a row of shots in front of each of them. _Oh my god, why and how did I get roped into this?_ Katsuki Yuuri’s horrified face seemed to say.

            _I don’t fucking need to see this_ , Yuri decided, and went to claim his one and only glass of wine, making sure his phone was at full battery, that he had a charger cable, and found a spot next to an outlet.

            The coaches sat in a circle, aside from their skaters, in a civil, much more sophisticated manner – except for Viktor Nikiforov, of course.

            _The idiot’s already drunk twice as much as everyone else!_ Yuri saw.

            In a matter of minutes, none of those six, blissfully over the drinking age skaters were in their right minds. Chris kept muttering about last year’s banquet and demanding that they relive it – and so Viktor was jealous.

            _“No!_ Back off, Chris – Yuuri is mine! See?” he declared, grabbing Yuuri’s ringed hand with his own adorned one. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you Yuuri?” Viktor then asked, draping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and speaking in a slurred voice similar to how Yuuri had most sincerely asked Viktor to be his coach a year ago.

            Yuuri didn’t get the chance to answer, though, due to a stroke of “genius” that struck both Viktor and Chris at the same time.

            _“We’ll settle this with a drinking contest!”_

            They gathered the scattered shot glasses into two semi-straight lines, and Chris found an unopened bottle of both Jägermeister and Grey Goose and slammed them onto the table.

            _Just how much to they plan to fucking drink?!_ Yuri mentally exploded.

            As this was going on, Yuuri, on a chair near Chris and Viktor’s table, was going through glass after glass of champagne – and the occasional stolen shot. And thus, as the three men grew more and more intoxicated, they grouped closer together and began to shed their clothes at an alarming rate. A tie, the light fabric being flung through the air, hit Yuri in the face, and he wished for nothing more than to forget that moment and its cause.

            Of course, Yuuri and Viktor, disgustingly affectionate couple that they were, gravitated towards each other, and Yuri was thankful, for the first time, for his deteriorating eyesight due to his smartphone use. It spared him from witnessing the skater-and-coach duo in full detail, as their actions grew more and more inappropriate.

            _Oh, god, finally!_ Yuri mentally cried as they were pulled apart by JJ and Otabek.

            In a corner, Phichit was clutching a pint and maniacally giggling – it, honestly, struck true fear into Yuri, and he could only obtain photos through zooming in after creeping as close as he dared. Yuri already had embarrassing and incriminating photos of Chris, Viktor, and Yuuri, both of them alone and in a group – but Yuri only intended to post the embarrassing ones on Instagram and keep the incriminating ones to himself. As blackmail material, of course, should the need arise.

            After completing their valiant mission of prying apart “Viktuuri,” as Phichit called them, JJ and Otabek were also heavily drunk. The latter had eventually passed out, slumped over a table, and Yuri quietly crept very close to get some good pictures. _These are actually really cute,_ Yuri thought. _But I won’t post them._

            No one else would receive such mercy, least of all JJ, who was prancing and stumbling around, terribly singing “Theme of King JJ” and constantly making the JJ Style sign while crowing his catchphrase. It was almost mortifying to watch.

            In the end, Yuri Plisetsky had taken 347 photos then spent two hours sorting out the ones he would keep and the ones he would delete. Another two hours were then used on deciding those that he would remorselessly upload to Instagram, and mercilessly and meticulously tagging each subject.

            The next morning, Yuri Plisetsky would watch the world burn, while enjoying his cold revenge with a cup of sickeningly sweet hot chocolate.


End file.
